Do you remember?

  Do you remember that night in July two summers ago? The one where we sat atop of the pavilion in the park? The day had been way too hot to venture outside, at 105 degrees, there was nothing to do but melt. So when the sun went down we all tentatively crept out of our houses, weary of being scorched by the angry sun. We were ecstatic to discover that without the sun it had dropped to a much more pleasant 70.

   On bikes we rode to the old quarry. Stripping off layers we jumped into the cool, cleansing water. We played like young otters, sinuously swimming and splashing full of energy. I think Tina even learned to swim that evening because every other time before she would only sit on the edge saying how no one had ever taught her.  But that evening she swam as if she had been born in water.

 After drying off and stopping to get pizza from O'Zetti's we parked our bikes in the moonlit park. Do you remember how the tree tops seemed to practically glow from the starlight? It was breathtaking. And then Mark had the idea we should play hide-n-go-seek like we used to: Linda was it first and she started loudly counting, "One! Two! Three!..." we all darted off, running as fast as we could, shouting with exhilaration.

  As we ran you motioned me to follow you, and so I did. You took me to the pavilion that those bands would play from on Friday nights. "Up there!", You whispered, "No one ever looks up." We monkey-climbed up on top of the roof and laid down.  Concealed atop the pavilion we admired the bright speckles of constellations in the sky. That was one of my favourite nights, and they never did find us: we had to come down after an hour and a half.  No one ever does look up.

Torrential Nostalgia

  I just got home after trekking a mile through the pouring rain.  I had neglected to bring my umbrella this morning, even though upon opening the door I had a gut feeling a storm was coming.  Of I went anyway with the hope I would return home before any rain hit and everything would be fine.

    Like any well made plan or hope this one came apart at the seams.  I ended up spending a little too long at the Library and while time vanished, the water began to fall down from the grey clouds. What could I do but walk home anyway? I couldn't wait forever, so off I went.

   Upon exiting the Library I thought, wow, this Autumn has been much rainier than in years past.  But then I looked back and realized that wasn't quite true.  I ran cross country and we competed in the fall.  The thing you could count on without fail was that the weather would be dismal for at least a few of the meets we attended.  These meets then usually consisted of bundling in layers and futilely trying to find some scrap of dryness under a tent or tree or anywhere.  You shivered and counted down the minutes until you'd have to compete.  Then the time would come and you stood shivering alongside another a hundred other shivering bodies.  Each person trying to stay warm, doing quick wind sprints, jumping up and down to keep the blood flowing.

    With a BOOM!  the gun goes off, everyone shoots off, rain pouring down from above, mud splattering everywhere from below.  The teams go from athletes to muddy monsters in minutes, battling the elements as much as each other. The course becomes unpredictable, a firm bit of trail could now be a muddy sinkhole up to your knee.  There's no stopping, you just keep going til you reach the finish line no matter what.

  Those days may sound miserable, and they were, but they were also the most fun you could have while running.  It was exhilarating, it was messy and it was awesome.